Through the Glass
by SafeKept
Summary: Remus loves to watch the leaves fall from his bedroom window, and he always longs to see them from the outside. A collection of Remus Lupin related drabbles, varying in seriousness.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in it.

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><p>Back lying heavy against the thickly grooved tree trunk, Remus sits. Sharp shards of hard wood stab him, and a few low hanging branches tickle his head. He is exhausted, and his eyes make repeated attempts to shut themselves without his permission. He tries his hardest to keep them open, wanting to see all he can this day; he wishes to absorb every singular detail and store each permanently in a secure spot in his memory.<p>

Gusts of wind float past, quietly playing with his hair and cooling bare spots of skin. He is thankful for it. The sun is bright and clear in the sky, and he would doubtless be soaked with sweat were it not for the light breeze.

His parents sit together on a chequered mat spread across the grass, joyfully discussing the tribulations of their work life. Remus can faintly hear them, each taking great pleasure in dramatizing the gruesome details. He smiles to himself.

Remus has decided he loves it here, adores the outside. The musky smell of mud beneath the fresh scent of the slightly damp grass, the whooshing and rustling of wind soaring through the trees. He enjoys the sensation of grass crawling through is fingers as he pushes his hands to the ground, the covered dirt sneaking into the thin gaps under his fingernails. Even the slight pain of jagged clumps of wood jabbing his back adds to his happiness. It all makes for this perfection.

This is more beautiful by far, Remus thinks, than simply watching. Watching was his reason for being so very glad for this day out, his ecstasy spurred on by hours of it, watching and watching and watching.

The family's trips from home were exceptionally few, restricted mainly to rare visits for his parents' workmates, some of them muggles, others not. Remus only recalls ever meeting one child of a wizarding family, a slight girl with a disproportionately thick neck, red face and matted mess of thick, white blond hair. She had been excitable and somewhat manic in Remus's opinion, and he remembers her spending vaguely ridiculous amounts of time merrily babbling away about Hogwarts and her anticipation of starting there. He had listened patiently, and made an attempt at attentively, but he found it difficult to keep up when she had begun to repeat herself for the third time. It was not that he did not hold any interest in the school; he did, great interest, in fact. But he found it a terrific challenge to identify with the enthusiasm of attending that the girl had held, because, as his parents had kindly informed him many times on multiple occasions, he was not ever going there. This did not upset him. He had long since accepted it, and found himself treating Hogwarts as though it were a story, a magical and glorious fairy tale that he had often heard as a young child. He was interested in it, but never in preparation. He was as an outside spectator of the school. He did not tell the girl this, as that kind of information invariably led to questions, and those, with equal predictability, led to answers he could not give, by the almighty order of his parents.

A leaf falls gently past Remus's nose, lightly brushing his face as it passes. He is reminded of sitting in his bedroom of home, gazing out of his window as golden brown Autumn leaves flutter past. His bedroom is raised far above the ground, too high to see the pavement that lies outside. He does not see the leaves hit the floor, and he loves to think that they keep falling, forever and forever. This one, coloured in a perfect yellowy gold, lands softly on the ground. Remus pauses to examine it, taking it in his hand and rolling it between his fingers.

It is riddled with brown rimmed holes, he sees, and rips surround its edges. As it falls out of his fingers, it lands in a patch of parched, dying grass. He sighs. He likes his idea that leaves are eternally falling.

He spends awful amounts of time looking out of windows, he thinks. Even when not in his room, he will sit at the dinner table, watching people stroll past, shopping bags grasped in their hands or leads running from then to a sulking pet on the other end. When passing through his kitchen in early morning for his at-home lessons ("We wanted to get you started early, there's fewer of us than there is at school and we don't want you going through life never knowing any magic") he watches muggle children unwillingly plodding to their school, occasionally a grumpy adult accompanying them. He'll watch them later with the workers, on their break for lunch as he slumps on a table eating his own. He really doesn't mind, he's thankful his parents do this at all.

He wonders if that outside is the same as this. Wonderful for the first time you go out, the freedom rushing through you and causing you to shiver with the thrill. And then you look properly, and you find that everything is ridden with dark little holes and uneven tears.

It was, he insists to himself, far better when nature's flaws were invisible to him, when he was simply _aware_ of them and did not have to pay them any mind. The glass makes things better.

He wonders if other people realise this, that if they stopped looking so hard they could feel better about things. He doubts it greatly.

Somehow though, as he sits against the tree, every part of him longs not to go and hide behind the glass once more. He thinks that this makes no sense whatsoever. But imperfection crawls beneath his nails, claws at his back and softly makes a great mess of his hair, and he wishes desperately to remain on this side of the glass, and prays to know if all things hold these glorious mistakes.

Someday, he swears to himself, he will make it his mission to find out.

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><p>Author's Note: Yay, pointless drabble! This is staying as a complete story right now, but I guess if at some point I get some Remus Lupin related ideas I might make this into a kind of mini collection.<p>

Thank you for reading, reviews make me unbelievebly happy and anything you have to say, as long as it's not mindlessly insulting, is always, always welcome.


	2. Chocolate Cherubs

Disclaimer: I am not the owner of Harry Potter. Not a bit of it will ever be mine.

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><p>"Moony Lupin!" Sirius strutted into the room, grinning madly. "You, my deranged chocolate munching, homework doing hedgehog, my darling cherub, my glorious little wolfy chum, <em>you<em> are coming with me."

Remus blinked. "You realise, Sirius, people doing homework really isn't so rare. Just because you think that enchanting first years' books to spew pus at anyone who open them -"

"Heh," Sirius said.

"- is a productive way to spend your time, doesn't mean that we all-"

Sirius interrupted again, "Just come with me already! Okay, I promise that I will do at least one piece of homework a month from here onwards. Alright?"

"I'm not going to get any better, am I?" Remus squinted. "Why am I your hedgehog?"

"Because you are adorable and spiky," Sirius informed him matter of factly. "Well, that's what James said…"

Remus could not think of a way to reply, so he veered away from the topic. Sighing heavily, he said, "What do you want me see?"

"Yes!" Sirius shouted. His manic grin of before returned. He gripped the back of Remus's chair. "Come along, my spiny mammal, and get prepared to experience amazingness and fantasticism!"

Remus winced, only half-jokingly. "Sirius, that sentence kills me." He got up from his chair, and Sirius went to exit their dorm in a fashion trapped somewhere between a saunter and a skip. Remus followed.

As he walked, Sirius said thoughtfully, "You know, I think you need to be a pernicketier mammal than a hedgehog." He paused for a moment, apparently running through a mental list of pernickety mammals. "A kangaroo!" he eventually came up with gleefully.

"What?" Remus said flatly.

"Yeah, there was this kangaroo in this book I liked when I was younger-"

"Winnie-the-Pooh?" Remus offered. "That was Rabbit."

Sirius shook his head dismissively. "Nah, it was definitely a kangaroo. Anyway you know I've never read any of your half-blood muggle-y weirdness. What in the name of Merlin's fitted fuchsia swimming trunks is Winnie-the-Pooh?"

"They're children's books," Remus told him. "Are we almost there?" he asked impatiently.

"Yup, just round – look, see, there they are."

They had stepped outside and James and Peter were sat on the grassy ground beneath a shady tree.

James's face wore the same thrilled smile Sirius had. "Hey, Moony. Moony! Come and look at this."

Peter turned to him and his expression displayed the same awe as if he were faced with an angel "Oh, dear God, Remus finally. Please tell these two to shut up. I only brought the stupid thing for our dorm."

Between James and Peter a small metal frame rested on the grass. Hanging from it were a collection of spheres, two at the end swooping away from the rest alternately to each other. Remus sighed. He stifled a small chuckle. He then frowned, finding he was somewhat annoyed. He had, it seemed, been disturbed from his work for Newton's flabby Cradle.

His eyes flickered between Sirius and James, each of them fast loosing the look of anticipation they had worn to be replaced with disappointment and slight annoyance.

"But, but," James stuttered. "_There's no magic!_" He waved his hand violently in front of hi to emphasize his point.

Remus nodded. "I'm going back to finish my homework." He turned away.

Sirius, now sitting cross- legged on the floor, looked supremely affronted. "You're leaving the magical balls of wonder to do _homework_?

Peter snickered. Sirius glared. "Sorry," Peter said.

"Shocking, isn't it?" Remus answered Sirius.

"Yes!" Sirius flung his head forward, pained.

James shook his head solemnly. "Leave him, Padfoot. He has lost his sense of wonder. Nobody can help him now."

Remus smiled softly and shook his head in agreement. He then turned and began to walk away.

Peter jumped up and floundered after him. "Take me with you!" He skidded in the grass, and yelled back at Sirius and James who were still staring in wonder at the contraption on the ground. "Don't break it."

Remus waited just behind the doorway, waiting for Peter and hearing Sirius yell, "Dull-minded flundershoots!"

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><p>Author's Note: I have absolutely no idea what this is. Really none. But whatever, I'm posting it anyway.<p>

So yeah, I wrote another one of these. My other story won't write, so this is what I came up with instead. There'll probably be more. Unless you all eat me.

Thanks for reading though, and reviews are always greatly appreciated. Seriously, I would buy expensive gifts for all reviewers if I could. I can't, so sorry, but the thought is still there.


	3. Medicinals

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.

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><p>Remus stood alone in his office, emptying his drawer into a tatty suitcase, throwing away scrap sheets of unneeded paper. He heard light footsteps growing closer to his office, and a soft voice floating dreamily through the door.<p>

"Professor? Are you there?"

He recognised the voice as belonging to one of his second year pupils. He had heard it rather often over the year, as it had often interrupted his lessons to provide bizarre arguments to his methods of dealing with dark creatures. One memorable time had brought the idea that every grindylow held within a core of pure evil waiting to be unleashed when some innocent, ignorant person gave to it almond brittle.

"Luna?" He looked up towards her with slight concern. "Is everything alright?"

She was hugging a plain brown, cloth bag to her chest, and her long hair hung in a loose ponytail.

"Oh, yes," she said. "I'm fine. I thought you might want some of my Senal Tymene."

Remus had no idea what she was talking about. "I'm sorry, your what?"

Luna's eyes widened a little in shock. "Oh, haven't you heard of it? It's excellent for werewolves. Daddy once wrote an article on it."

Remus blinked at her. He was getting lost, as he always eventually found himself with the young girl. He could find nothing to say but a simple, "Oh?"

Luna nodded, smiling faintly. "Daddy got it for me last year when dark hairs grew all over my arms," she told him, opening her bag and rummaging through its contents. "But it turned out that somebody had just put a jinx on my pyjamas."

Remus would have told her he was sorry, but she was holding out to him a large, garishly decorated tin in front of him. "Thank you Luna, really, but I don't wish to take your things." Luna did not move. "I'll be fine without it, I promise."

"Oh no, I really don't need it," Luna said, thrusting it closer to him; Remus instinctively flinched backwards. "I would have given it to you months ago if I'd known." She forced it into his arms, and he was surprised by its lightness.

"Well, then," Remus said awkwardly, his voice muffled by the tin. He put it down. Thank you. I'm certain it will be useful."

She smiled at him softly and glanced quickly around the room. "You're leaving," she said simply.

"Yes." Remus nodded. "Certain… recent events have meant it would be inappropriate for me to continue teaching here."

Luna gazed up at him softly. "People don't like that you're a werewolf. I've heard the Slytherins talking about it. They weren't very nice about you."

Remus was sure he didn't want to know what they had been saying, so he didn't ask. He simply nodded.

"Well, I thought you were an excellent teacher," she told him, not looking at him but instead examining the contents of her bag. "It's funny what bothers people. Everybody ignored it when Daddy found out that our last teacher was a very big smuggler of pixie venom, which I think is much worse."

Remus smiled in reply.

"Anyway," Luna said. "I've got to go. I'm packing early. Daddy and I are going are going to look for Crumple Horned Snorkacks in Norway. A friend of his says she thinks she saw one there and we both want to check straight away." She closed her bag. "So goodbye!"

"Goodbye Luna. Thank you again for the…" He checked the label. "Senal Tymene." He smiled at her with genuine kindness.

She smiled back and then immediately left, half skipping as she left the room.

Remus looked at the gift on his desk. He had no idea what he was meant to do with it (he wondered for a moment if there were instructions on the back) or if it was even safe, but as he inspected the illustration of a serene looking wolf with a large daisy perched on its head he could not help but smile.

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><p>Author's Note: Yay, another pointless piece of nonsense stuff! But it was <em>fun to write,<em> so oh well.

Thanks for reading, and I would really love for somebody to review. I'm happy to hear what you have to say, as long as it isn't just flaming. Which, by the way, doesn't at all mean I can't take criticism. I can. Just... I would love some reviews. Thank you.


	4. When the Hour Comes

Disclaimer: Harry Potter? Nope, not mine.

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><p>Tick.<p>

Tick.

Tick.

Remus sat cross-legged on the worn sofa that lay half collapsed in the Lupins' sitting room. A tatty book rested on the insides of his legs, the corners digging in the insides of his knees. He had tried to focus on the text, but he had already completed the book once that day. The writing had transformed into a messy blur, barely distinguishable from the line drawings dotted across it. So he was buried in the squashy back cushion of the sofa, eyes closed tight. His fingers played gently with the corner of an open page, bending it slightly, absorbed enough with fearful tedium to ignore his usual rule of books being worthy of the utmost respect.

A huge, mahogany clock hung from the opposite wall. Remus had always loved the clock, a muggle creation, and had been fascinated by its workings and mechanisms when once his father had opened it up to fix a fault. His almighty interest in it had eventually cause his parents to have to move it higher than his reach when he almost smashed it one time he tried to dislodge it for himself.

Tick, it said. Tick, tick, tick. Never tock; Remus could only ever hear one repeated noise. It echoed through him, gradually becoming louder until it made his head ache.

Tick, the clock mocked.

His parents had stood in the kitchen for a long while, coming in once in a while to try and make awkward conversation. Remus had mostly made only silent gestures in response.

A long space existed between each click of the clock. It was empty and felt like it had left far too quickly when the clock moved on. And each coming tick took an eternity to arrive. The young boy did not know what was coming this evening, and was not exited for finding out.

Though that wasn't exactly true. Remus did know. His parents had run through every terrible detail with him, what he should expect from every minute, reduced to only somewhat child-friendly language. He had been shown illustrations, each one stabbing him with shards of ice that numbed his skin, and he trusted that nothing they could give was being hidden from him.

But every part of him was filled with the terror of not knowing.

Tick, tick, tick.

Remus considered going and getting another book, one he didn't already know inside out. He decided against it, thinking that time would pass more slowly if he were bored. And he would have like to be bored.

A cool glass of water lent against his side. It was untouched and full to the brim, and a few droplets had spilled over onto his trousers, beginning to flow down his legs like miniature, winding rivers. He didn't bother moving it. He watched each stream on its way down.

Tick, tick, tick.

The noise crawled back into his head.

He tried listening for the elusive tock, but could hear nothing. Just a long string of never-ending ticks.

He laid his book to one side and cupped a hand around the damp outside of his glass of water. It slipped easily down his throat as he took a sip, sending a cold thrill down into his empty stomach. He waited a few seconds before bringing it to his lips again. This time, moments after he swallowed, the water slithered back into his mouth, burning his tongue. The liquid fell from his mouth and slid back into the glass with a slurping plop. His hand shook a little as he placed the glass onto the floor, sure he would remember to avoid drinking any more of it.

He hugged his book tightly against his chest, squeezing his eyes to stop tears returning. His head sunk deeply into the sofa. Acid still tingled at the back of his throat.

He listened.

His parents talked in muffled voices, deliberately muted for him.

Birds cawed outside.

Tick, tick, tick.

Remus wished for silence, and simultaneously hoped that it did not come.

.-***-.

Remus was never scared of the dark, but as he enters his basement his mind is numb and the shaking in his legs is uncontrollable.

He is hugged tightly by his parents, his mother kissing him softly on the forehead, his dad desperately trying to keep the ever-firm look in his eyes through his thin tears.

Remus watches their silhouettes desperately, silently begging for them to come back for another hug or kiss or supporting whisper. He longs to hear that it will be okay, that it won't be as bad as they had said. He wishes he could see their eyes still, know that they were there for sure and would be waiting in the morning. His insides freeze as his skin sets on fire when the door shuts and the room is flooded with darkness.

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><p>Author's Note: Did this make sense? I'm not really sure. But I do rather enjoy tormenting Remus. I need to do it more.<p>

Thanks for reading, and _please _could somebody review? It's kind of depressing that I've got four of these and nobody has said a thing. How can I make these better if I get no feedback? I'll just forever be writing senseless globs of nonsense, and _you'll_ be forced to have it clogging up your website.

So, uh, yeah, reviews would be appreciated.


	5. Someday

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, why would I write fanfic for it?

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><p>"Someday," she will whisper to him at night, "things will be better."<p>

She tells him this when he has had nightmares, and has come crawling into her bed, moistening her arm with frightened tears as she hugs him close. She will tell him it when another young friend gets tired of his secrets and lies, his fear of them digging too deep. She uses it to comfort him when she tries her hardest to fix his wounds on nights after the full moon. She whispers it when he has gone too long with no-one to talk to.

Sometimes, he listens. Sometimes he has to listen, because there is nothing else that he can do.

Mostly, he nods it away, because it hasn't come true yet, and he is so tired of waiting.

She wants good things for him, like any mother would. She prays to see him happy, for him to do what good he wishes. She has dreams of seeing him at school, of him gaining friends whom he could trust, of him achieving things she never did. She hopes. Sometimes she will scold herself for this, for believing things she is only saying in support of her child. She doesn't think that he believes her, anyway, her lies transparent enough for a nine year old to see straight through.

But she persists. She keeps repeating it. Maybe because she thinks it will make it real. Because it might one day help him. Because if she can even get one of them to believe it, it _will_ be better.

And sometimes, on dark nights when a shaking, tiny boy clings to her and spills tears on her skin, she says it because she has to.

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><p>Author's Note: Ridiculous shortness! I know. Sorry. I wrote another one of these today that was longer, but I'm not really happy with it, so I' m still deciding whether or not to post it. So I have this instead, and it's not even 300 words long. Oh well. Sorry.<p>

Thanks to the people who reviewed. I don't feel the need to beg anymore. Though, of course, reviews are still appreciated to stupid levels, so that doesn't mean don't write them.

Thank you for reading!


	6. Unknown

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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><p>The bedside candle's flame flutters as Remus watches it intently. He hates sleeping in strange places. Or trying to sleep, at least; he has never actually managed it.<p>

And Hogwarts is certainly the strangest, most foreign place Remus has ever been. Not only huge, but grand in every way, and, Remus thinks, terrifying. It's detailed, intricate structures glow in sharp contrast to his memories of home, and effortlessly eclipse any ideas of the school he had formed from pictures in books. It is marvellous, and Remus is thrilled by it, but his brain refuses to settle into sleep.

Other than his parents, he has, throughout the entire day, spoken to precisely three people:

Number one was a mousy haired, slightly chubby young boy named Danny. They exchanged hellos, and then spent a journey to Hogwarts in complete silence. He had ended up in Ravenclaw.

Two, a teacher whose name he did not yet know had informed him that he had a meeting with Dumbledore the following day. He had said okay.

And three, a boy he had asked to pass the gravy. The boy answered yes.

So far, he thought, going unnoticed was proving easy.

So he should be sleeping in peace, as everyone else in his dorm was (well, peace, Remus thought, was perhaps an inaccurate description, as every one of them was snoring loudly, but it would do, as he was sleepy). But he couldn't. Everything about this place made him feel uneasy, from the clear scarlet of the curtains to his own flickering candle.

He is overjoyed to be here, of course. Beyond happy. It was the greatest thing anybody could have ever given him, a chance to attend Hogwarts. Excitement had flooded through him continuously for all of the day, he had found himself grinning madly when he was sure nobody was watching. The food had been wonderful, and he was greatly looking forward to starting his classes tomorrow. He didn't want to be tired for them, did he, he asked himself.

He tried focussing on the candle.

He felt freezing, and wrapped his blanket closer around him.

He has been so happy all day, so why is he terrified now?

It's a whole three weeks until full moon.

He hasn't yet met anybody here who is particularly threatening.

He hasn't earned a single unfortunate glance from any of his new teachers.

He has managed to slip under the other students' radar.

He has nothing to worry about, nothing at all.

Homesick, maybe?

A little. It is his first time away from his parents, after all. It's perfectly normal for him to miss them.

Perhaps wary of what Dumbledore has for him?

He was, though his parents had expressed great respect for and trust in him. And he had let him into the school hadn't he?

So then, he reasons with himself, there is nothing wrong with you, because there is nothing wrong around you.

You are happy. Ecstatic. Overjoyed.

This will be good.

You know it.

So why is it cold?

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><p>Author's Note: I don't like this one much. Not at all, actually. But, oh well, I'm putting it up here anyway. Sorry for the badness.<p>

Thanks for reading, anyway! Kinda short again, I know. Reviews are wonderful things.


	7. Helping Peter

Disclaimer: Sometimes I like to tell young children that I own Harry Potter, just to see if they'll believe me. Sometimes they do. Other times they just stare at me like I'm some kind of raving lunatic. But I'm still lying, whichever reaction I get.

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><p>"Remus! Oh, good, good."<p>

Remus stared curiously at Peter, who beamed at him, eyes covered in tussled hair. His breathing seemed a little heavy and his face was stained a pinkish-red.

"Peter?"

"I'm alright," Peter said, nodding frantically, causing his cheeks to wobble. "I just… I just needed your help."

They were in the boys dorm in Gryffindor Tower, Remus standing as Peter sat cross-legged on his messy bed. The bed was covered in… things, that Remus couldn't identify; metal spheres orbited by small lumps of rock, a lens that held the image of what looked like a young couple standing in the snow, a sheet of white cloth sprayed with small dots of some kind of liquid. Remus frowned.

"What are you doing?"

Peter's face scrunched. "It's, um, I don't… I'm trying to make a thing."

"A thing," Remus repeated.

"Yeah. It's for a friend - well, sort of - but I'm not sure what I'm doing." Peter stared intently at the strange objects on the bed, as though hoping they would create something on their own.

"Do you know what you're _trying_ to do?" Remus asked.

"Well, to make a thing."

Remus sighed quickly. "Yes, but… what kind of… thing?"

"I not very sure," Peter said slowly. "Um, I think it flashes."

"That's, uh, something, I suppose. Who… told you to do this? Because if it was Sirius you know very well never to listen to him."

"It was my cousin. She's sort of scary," Peter said quietly.

Remus couldn't help smiling a little, but he nodded in supporting to Peter. "Is it important to her that you build this?"

Peter continued to glare at his bed. "No. But I told her I could. She said I couldn't."

"But you don't know what you said you could?"

"Um…sorry? I think so…?"

Remus breathed in slowly. "I mean, you don't know what it is you told her you could do?"

"Oh," Peter said. "No." He paused, thinking for a few moments. "She told me, but I wasn't listening. Well, I was, I even wrote down instructions. But they don't make much sense."

"Can I see them?" Remus asked.

"Oh, yeah, alright." After some searching, Peter pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from under the white cloth. "Here," he said, pushing it over to Remus.  
>Remus squinted. "It's a bit messy," he said.<p>

Peter grinned bashfully. "It…is."

"Can you… read it?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, just about, but they don't really make much sense."

"Just try reading it. I'll see if I understand what you meant. I get enough practise trying to make sense of my own notes." Peter nodded.

.-***-.

Two hours later, and they have something on front of them. Remus still has no idea of what it is.

"Uh, Remus…" Peter starts.

"I don't know," Remus tells him.

"Well, it's flashing. I think that's good."

"Yes."

Silence.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Does your cousin… like playing tricks on you?"

"Someti- Oh. This is going to explode or something isn't it?"

"I think so," Remus says, nodding.

Remus shuts his eyes, bracing himself moments before his face is coated on bright orange powder.

"Ugh! Uh, uh, _ugh_!" Remus hears Peter spit. "That's disgusting. Oh, I am going to kill her next holiday. _Ugh_!" Peter tries to wipe the powder off his face. "Sorry," he says quietly.

"Um..." Remus glances down at his tangerine clothing, wondering vaguely how long it would take to get off if he didn't have magic. "It's... alright. I can get rid of it. I think. Unless it's cursed."

"Oh, God, I hope not- uh, this stuff tastes _awful_! _Ugh_!"

A voice calls out from outside the dorm.

"Pete? You alright in there?"

Peter replies to Sirius with another loud _ugh_.

"I really don't want to come in, do I?"

"Sirius, you're perfectly safe to come in," Remus says, taking care not to get any of the powder in his mouth after seeing Peter's reaction to it.

"Moony? You're in there too?" Sirius asks, faking disgust as he enters the room. He stares at the two of them for a moment, before saying simply, "Oh." He splutters.

"Just stay quiet and help us clean," Remus tells him.

"Was Peter trying to treat his spots again?" Sirius says, grinning. "I told you you can't trust stuff you get off some stranger wandering round Diagon Alley."

"That was once. And no. It was my cousin. I hate her," Peter says, teeth clenched.

"Iwant to meet her," Sirius says, sounding impressed.

Peter glares at Sirius. "I agree with Moony," he says. "Shut up and help us clean."

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><p>Author's Note: Okay, there isn't any real reason for this to exist. But it was fun to write. So up it goes. Watch it fly, up, up and away.<p>

I was going to put another story in here, but it unded up a little long, so it is now its own seperate one-shot. Nobody has reviewed it yet. Not a single person. Not that I'm asking you to or anything. I'm just, you know, mentioning it.

Thanks for reading, as always, and I love to get reviews like I love strawberry ice-cream. Which is a ridiculous amount. So please leave them, and prove your general goodness. You can rest knowing you've made a person happy. And that's an acheivement, right?


	8. Peter Likes Baking

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not, did not, and almost certainly will not ever belong to me.

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><p>Remus had been sent down here by Peter's mother, early in the morning, haven woken up last. The basement was dark, and smelt strongly of damp. He could hear the faint voices that he assumed to belong to his friends, though there were unidentifiable in their softness. They silenced as he climbed down the stairs. Reaching the bottom, he gave his eyes a moment to adjust, beginning to make out fuzzy silhouettes resting on the floor. The three figures sat in silence.<p>

"Why are you all sitting in the basement?" Remus asked plainly.

One of the shadows spoke in a loud voice. "I have no idea! They made me, and I hate it down here, I always get mum to go down if I need anything! And it's my house, and they made me!"

Remus waited a moment for Peter to continue; he didn't, and Remus said, "James? Sirius? Basement?"

"It's very important we stay down here, Remus," Sirius said, in a deeply serious tone.

Another shape, one Remus guessed must be James, nodded. "Very important," James repeated.

"And why?"

"Uh…" Sirius said, "It is just important, okay? Important!" He sighed heavily. "You know Moony, you question things too much."

"Yeah, just come and sit with us."

"No, Remus, make them get us out of here, I don't like it, there are rats down here, and other stuff. Bad stuff." Remus saw Peter nod slowly, like he were imagining the sort of 'bad stuff' that might be down there.

"Peter, the door's open." Remus told him. "You can leave. See, the light up there?"

"I can't" Peter answered. "They're holding onto me."

Remus sighed. "James, Sirius, let go of him," he said flatly.

"Never." Sirius said.

"What? Peter, how did they get you down here in the first place?" Remus questioned.

"They were looking for food. They found the basement, and went down here and- Oh my God I think something just crawled over my foot. Oh fammers, where's my wand?"

"Peter. It was Sirius, he just… stroked your foot. Um, I think. Probably." Remus ignored Sirius's yelps of complaint. "Just, come back upstairs, all of you." He climbed near-blindly over to them, stumbling a little, and tried to loosen their hold on Peter.

Sirius released his grip and folded his arms huffily. He sniffed loudly. "Remus."

Peter jumped up, spent a moment frantically looking around, and then jumped his way out of the room as quickly as he could.

"Remus," James said, after Peter had left. "He's _baking_!"

Sirius cut in. "I do not want to bake. I do not want to bake even if it is with Peter an James and you."

Fairly, Remus wasn't sure he wanted to bake. Mostly through fear that either James or Sirius would cause something to explode and he would lose all his hair again. But still.

"So you locked him in his basement. Really?"

"We were rushed" We had to agree on something quickly!" James insisted.

"You know, baking can actually be quite fun."

"Remus," Sirius said. "Remus, you think spending over five hours at a time in the library is fun. We have different feelings on this."

"I have never spent five in the library. And have you ever tried it?" Remus asked.

"Remus, Sirius and I would never spend five hours in a library."

"Baking! Have you ever tried baking?"

"Nope," Sirius said. "And you have spent that long. You did last Valentine's Day."

Remus found himself sighing again. "Let's just go and join Wormtail." He leant down and pulled them both up by the arm. They followed him up limply. "Both of you, come on. We can eat after."

James and Sirius unwillingly follwed.

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><p>Author's Note: Yep, another completely pointless chapter. Again, though, it was fun to write. I could probably have gone on with it, but didn't, and that is most likely a good thing.<p>

Thank you for reading, I love reviews, in case you didn't already know from my previous Author's Notes. So please leave them, and I will love you forever and ever.


	9. James and Lily

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and nor do I wish to. I'm perfectly happy just sitting back and writing fanfic for it. So yay.

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><p>James had finally managed to get his date with Lily Evans.<p>

It was on a trip to Hogsmeade, and it had turned out to be a lovely day. The sun shone brightly and it was wonderfully warm without being humid. They had, according to Sirius, gone to 'some restaurant café place'. Remus, however, did not know where this was.

The remaining three were wandering the town with little direction, Remus and Peter being led by Sirius. They had travelled around the Hog's Head about five times, Remus guessed, and they were a way through their sixth. He watched as Peter slouched further forward with each circle, waiting for his complaints to start. Eventually, on their seventh time around the pub, he started, "Sirius, we've walked round here about twenty times. Can we do something, because this is _really boring?_"

Sirius swivelled quickly to place a hand on the handle of the Hog's Head's door.

Peter spoke again, hurriedly, "No, no, not in there!"

Sirius frowned at him in annoyance.

"That place is really creepy. It's always freezing and there are really weird people in there," Peter explained, eying the door as though it were some kind of monster.

Sirius rolled his eyes, but let his hand drop anyway.

"Sirius?" Remus said softly. Sirius did nothing. "Do you want to go to the Three Broomsticks? You shouldn't stand around all day."

"Yeah, let's go get a butterbeer," Peter piped up. "I'm really thirsty, I don't think I've drunk today at all."

"The Hog's Head," Sirius said quietly, "is far more exiting. You get complete loonies in here. We can…" He trailed off, watching Remus for a moment. He glanced at Peter, then nodded quickly. "Yeah. Three Broomsticks," he said, pushing a loose strand of hair out of his face, absent-mindedly.

Remus gave him a small smile, and Sirius nodded again.

"It's rubbish here without James," he said, as they walked, Peter running ahead of them, apparently in extreme thirst.

Remus shrugged, then looked around at Sirius apologetically.

"You reckon he's gonna be doing this a lot?"

"Go on dates together? Well they are _dating_, so it would make sense."

Sirius glared, and rolled his eyes.

Remus laughed. "It's not going to be the Grand and Most Final Breaking Up of the Marauders, Sirius. Lily's been around for years. Only now she's actually going out with him, rather than just him begging her to."

"Yeah. Just, _Lily._ I never thought it would happen. I don't think James has ever been on a real date before."

Remus smiled. "Me neither. But if we managed to survive you and Jessica-"

"Remus, we don't talk about that remember-"

"-then we'll be fine."

Sirius nodded once more, hair falling into his face. He shook it off, and he and Remus joined Peter in the Three Broomsticks.

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><p>Authors Note: So yeah, this one is pretty rubbishy. Sorry.<p>

This wasn't really about Remus so much as it was Sirius, but oh well. It's related to him, so it goes here. Also, I wouldn't put it as a separate story anyway. It's too short and bad. Oh well. I really need to write more with James in it bcause I'm terrible at writing him. I've written about one story that had him in (which is a separate one-shot that isn't here and only has one review shameless self- promotion and begging) and I didn't really like what I did with him in it. So yeah, I need to write more James-ish stuff. But I probably won't, because I'm too busy writing about PETER. And Remus, of course.

Anyway, even though I'm not too happy with this one myself, thanks for reading it. I would really love it if you left a review before you leave. I love reviews a lot. Have I ever mentioned that? Because I've got a weird feeling I might have... Still, just in case you don't know: I LOVE REVIEWS AND I WILL LOVE YOU TOO IF YOU GIVE THEM BECAUSE THEY ARE MAGICAL WONDERFUL THINGS! WHOO ALL CAPS! YAY!


	10. Lucky Charms

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me and I do not own it and it is not mine okay.

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><p>"Uh, Remus?" Peter was whispering as he tugged at Remus's sleeve. "Why do you have a necklace?" He held the chain in front of his eyes, squinting at it.<p>

"It- It's a lucky charm. I bought it when I was younger." Remus scooped it in his hand, and Peter laid it gently in his palm. Peter blinked, sucking his lips in. He nodded slowly.

Remus clasped it tightly in his palm and the cool metal jabbed at his hand. He smiled at Peter. "Sirius and James would make fun of me for that, wouldn't they?"

"Yup," Peter said, picking up the bread roll that had sat next to him and taking a large bite. "But they laugh at anything. I still don't know what was half so funny about my towel…"  
>Remus said nothing.<p>

"I still haven't got that back," Peter said.

Remus half smiled sympathetically. "I'll ask Sirius if you want. I'll try and get him to give it back."

Peter laughed a little. "He's not gonna listen to _you._ You aren't very scary, at all."

Remus wasn't sure; at home, he always found grown-ups listened to him quite a bit. "Well, I could try-" he started, just slightly indignant.

"_No!_" Peter said. "I don't want them to…" He trailed off.

Remus didn't now quite what to do then. He thought his mother would have put his arm around him, but that didn't seem right somehow. So he just nodded instead. He seemed to nod a lot, since coming here.

"Just…don't mention it to them, alright?" Peter said.

Remus blinked. "Okay," he answered flatly.

He noticed that his lucky charm was still resting in his hand, warm now from his skin.  
>Peter was looking down at it; he closed his hand, and Peter watched his face, confused.<p>

"James! What are you doing? That is my scarf! And you cannot take my scarf. It is sacred. It's a sacred scarf and you are unworthy. So give it back!" The voice reached them, up from the stairs and into their dorm. Peter smiled.

Remus squeezed his hand tighter. "I'm putting this away…" he said, as Sirius fell into the room.

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><p>Author's Note: I'm sorry, I don't know what this is or why it exists or why anybody would want to read it. Yeah.<p>

I basically ended up writing this because I wanted Remus to comfort someone about something when he had only been at Hogwarts for a very short amount of time. I also wanted Peter to want to seem impressive to James and Sirius. But if I start on misery and confusion, I go on and on and on forever until I'm just left with page after page of nonsense. So I kept it under 400 words. But yeah basically I thought that when Remus had only just started at Hogwarts he had only really spoken to adults and wasn't used to people his own age. Also used to people always being pretty nice to him. This is me trying and failing to express that. I might try again somewhen.

Thanks for reading. Now, reviews! Please?


	11. School is Ending

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter.

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><p>School is ending for summer, and it's the last time it will.<p>

There is a week left, exactly, and the whole year seems to be caught in a mixture of terrific excitement and absolute horror. Almost every one of them, in Gryffindor house at least, is continuously alternating rapidly between the two, one minute declaring toasts to their glorious time here and the next wrapped in a tight ball on the floor, looking gloomily around their school for the last time. There is music and parties and drunken sessions of expressing absolute misery at leaving. And singing. There is a terrible amount of singing. Some stand up, towering above everybody on the arm of a chair to tell grand tales of their plans for after Hogwarts - providing they pass their NEWTs of course. Their exam results have not yet been returned to them, adding more to the building anxiousness everybody holds.

The invisible walls that stand between each house are beginning to fold in on themselves, if only beginning. Competition is heated for the final house cup, of course, but the rivalry is more playful than it once was. James and particularly Sirius still hold contempt for the Slytherins, of course, but they have stopped acting on it, apparently deciding it was better to ignore that which they felt compelled to despise.

In short, their time at Hogwarts is closing. Finality tinges everything.

Remus is terrified. He doesn't ever hit the exited stages, though not for a lack of trying. He even tried drinking, just the once, despite vowing never to, and it only served to make him more miserable, leaving him shaking until he fell asleep for far too long. He is not particularly anxious to try it again any time soon.

But he can't stand the thought of leaving this place. His stomach twists and his fingers chill whenever the idea crawls icily into his mind. And he finds it hard to forget among all this fuss. He thinks to should be immune by now.

He always used to hate sleeping, thinking it a dreadful waste of his time, and he sleeping was something he did a lot. But now he finds himself longing to do it his whole day. Sleep and sleep and sleep. Only he can't, because he is far too busy worrying.

He had joined in with the celebrations, in fact a little more actively than necessary, trying to clear his head. It failed, every time, predictably.

Simply, though, hereon out he does not know. What to do, where to go, what to try, how to live his life from here onwards. What will he do, though it is painful to think of, when his parents' lives are lived out? How long will he manage to live with others who have lives of their own to lead? Will his friends lose contact with him? They swear they won't, but he hears people all around him saying such things. James, Sirius, Peter, now Lily. They are who he has spent these seven years of his life with, more so than his parents. What will he do when life forces them into the background.

He doesn't want to cry. He wishes the tears to go away.

Don't cry don't cry you mustn't it won't do you any good you'll just feel worse after-

-you're being selfish this has been the best time of your life and you will never ever forget a moment of it so you can't-

One week. Seven days, stretching ahead from this moment, every one dense with emotion and longing and excitement and nostalgia and hope. He should sleep, in this pitch black room on the comfiest bed he's ever known on this deliciously warm summer night. He shuts his eyes, dry from his near constant rubbing of them, in the darkness.

One week, exactly. One week left, and that's it, forever. So, he tells himself, sighing into his pillow-

_Enjoy_.

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><p>(So why can't he just <em>sleep<em>?)

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><p>Author's Note: Ooh, misery. I need to stop writing these pointless drabbles of pointlessiness at like one in the morning. This is probably riddled with spelling mistakes and grammar problems. Sorry. I'll check through somewhen, but I'd love to be told about any I've missed.<p>

Which reminds me, it's review begging time! So... I would really love it if you could review because I appreciate everything you say and criticism helps me improve. There. But really, I do love getting reviews and I also love everyone who leaves them. So thanks!


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